


Dixon Jr.

by lea_ysaye



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Mpreg, Parody, not to be taken too seriously anyway, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:06:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6117358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_ysaye/pseuds/lea_ysaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/><b>or </b><br/><b>Life and Love in the Walker Apocalypse<br/></b><br/>A Walking Dead Parody and Fan Fiction</p>
</div>Daryl behaves oddly, and Rick soon finds out why. <p>  <img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cravings

**Author's Note:**

> I broke the first rule of fanfiction - Don't talk about fanfiction to the actors. I made this story into a book for Norman Reedus and one for Andrew Lincoln and gave it to them at Walker Stalker Con in London. Now I've come here to see if anyone will chastise me for it...;)

_Fuckit, walkers…_

Rick awoke with a jolt and sat bolt upright in bed, hitting his head on the underside of the upper bunk. Cursing, he rubbed the top of his head and listened. Something had… what? Made a noise?

*bump*

There it was again.

Quietly Rick slid off the thin foam mattress and padded to the cell entrance on naked feet. There he stopped, listening again. There was nothing for a moment, then a rustling sound, like a plastic bag being ripped open. It came from the far side of the common area, Rick was sure.

Slowly, he pushed the sheet away that was hung over the entrance to his cell, Python at the ready. He peeked round the corner into the communal area and the gloomy shadows of the early morning hours. For a moment he couldn’t see anything, then there seemed to be a movement, in the far corner by the supply shelves. Rick thought he recognized the figure.

“Daryl?”

The other man froze with the back to the room. He was holding something in one hand. Rick stepped out of his cell and approached the hunter, replacing the gun in the waistband of his jeans.

“What are you doing?”

Daryl turned around slowly, and Rick could see he was holding a box of some sort. A moment later Rick realized that it was their last box of Oreo cookies. He frowned. What was going on?

“Eatin’…?” Daryl hazarded around a mouthful of cookies.

“Why?” Rick couldn’t help the question slip out. “It’s three fucking am…”

Daryl shrugged, looking a bit guilty. “Was hungry. That a crime now?”

Rick had a hard time keeping back the scathing reply. Instead, he took a deep breath and advanced on Daryl, taking the box from him when he was close enough. It was as good as empty. Rick shook the box under Daryl’s nose.

“Carl and Michonne will be pissed. That was the last box.” Rick rolled his eyes, then made a shooing motion with his hands. “Alright, back to bed, before your midnight munchies wake the whole prison.”

He chivvied Daryl in front of him, and the hunter moved reluctantly towards the stairs, regretfully eyeing the box Rick was still holding. Rick made sure Daryl was climbing the stairs before going back to his cell. He scratched his beard thoughtfully. What had all that been about, he wondered to himself.

*

Early next morning found a group of them loading and preparing the cars for a big supply run. Daryl was just handing Rick a box of tools when he suddenly froze on the spot. Rick looked up and saw the other man’s face turn first white, then green.

“What is it, Daryl?”

In response Daryl just shoved the box at Rick, who caught it just in time, then pressed one hand to his mouth and hurried away. He came to a stop by the guard tower wall, where he bent over. Rick could hear him retching.

Rick put the box into the trunk of the car, then walked over to where Daryl was still bent double. What was going on with their hunter? As far as Rick knew he had never been sick. But then, he reflected, as far as he knew he’d never eaten a whole box of cookies in one night, either.

“You ok?”

Rick stopped a little way away when the other man raised a hand as if to stop Rick from coming closer. Finally, he straightened up, breathing hard. Wiping his mouth with one hand Daryl leaned against the tower’s brick wall.

“What was that?” Rick asked. He was getting worried, he couldn’t deny it. Daryl shrugged. His face was still a bit green and he looked miserable.

“Dunno.”

“Maybe you should stay here today…”

Daryl nodded faintly, but then his eyes suddenly started to fill with tears. Rick looked at him, feeling alarmed and utterly confused. He took a step closer, then stopped again, unsure what to do with their strong redneck, now positively bawling.

“What is it, man?”

Rick realized his own voice now had a slightly panicky undertone. How was it that he could deal with walkers and crazy psychopathic murderers at the drop of a hat, but his friend going to pieces in front of him was causing him real panic?

Daryl buried his face in shaking hands and shook his head. He mumbled something Rick didn’t catch.

“Come again?”

Daryl lifted his tear streaked face. “I ate all the cookies.”

Rick couldn’t believe his ears. Was this some crazy alternative reality he’d suddenly been catapulted into? He was now utterly confused. Nothing for it but trying for reason, he decided.

“Daryl, I’m sure it’s fine. We’ll, uh… we’ll try and find some more cookies today, ok?”

It took a minute but finally, with an effort, Daryl started pulling himself together. Eventually he nodded, looking embarrassed.

“Ok.”

Rick considered. “Maybe you need some rest. Go take a nap?”

To Rick’s surprise Daryl nodded again. He had been sure the hunter would protest, sneer at him and ask him if he’d lost his mind. Instead Daryl just wiped away his tears and pushed himself away from the wall.

“Yeah ok…”

He started walking away towards the cell block as if in a dream. Rick stared after him. Halfway to the door Daryl turned round again, looking worried.

“Don’t forget the cookies, ok?”

Rick nodded, feeling dazed. As he looked after Daryl’s retreating form he thought to himself that maybe they should bring back a book on psychiatry, too, along with the cookies. Was Daryl having a breakdown of some sorts? Rick made a mental note to have a word with Hershel as soon as possible.

*

It was late afternoon. The group was just unloading the car. Hershel motioned Rick aside just as he was putting down the last crate of supplies by Carol's feet. Rick raised an eyebrow at the old man who looked grave.

“A word, Rick?”

“Sure.”

Rick followed Hershel as the man limped up the stairs and out into the courtyard. What could it be that needed such secrecy, Rick wondered. When they got outside Hershel turned around. He seemed a bit lost for words, which was not like Hershel at all. Finally, he spoke.

“I don't really know how to say this, Rick. It's, well... It's damn weird is what it is.”

Rick raised an eyebrow. “Is this about Daryl?”

Hershel nodded. “He came back inside when you were setting off. He told me that he'd been sick and that you'd told him to stay behind. He said he felt strange, not like himself, and could I take a look at him? So I did. Rick... Well, there's no easy way to say this, and I don't understand it at all, but... Daryl is pregnant.”

Rick was certain he couldn't have understood the old man right. His hearing must've gone awry. Maybe he'd had a stroke and now all words were gibberish. He stared at Hershel, speechless.

“I know how strange this sounds, Rick.”

Rick snorted. “Strange? Do you even _know_ what you just said?”

Hershel looked at a complete loss. “Yes, I do. And there's no explanation for it that makes any sense. I know that. But the test came back positive...”

“Test?”

“I've got some self-test kits stashed away. With more and more women here we're bound to have this happening soon...”

Rick snorted again, close to hysterical laughter now.

“Looks like we don't need to wait for the women to get busy.” He stepped really close to the old man. “Please tell me if this a joke, Hershel? I swear I won't get mad. But I can't take any more weirdness right now...”

Hershel sighed. “I wish I was kidding, I really to. I'm at a complete loss here... But as far as I can tell this is what's going on. I ran the test twice, same result both times. I didn't tell Daryl what I wanted to do, just asked him to pee in a cup once I'd checked him over and found the symptoms suspicious.”

“Symptoms?”

“Cravings, morning sickness, mood swings. Also, he said his nipples...”

“Okay, okay, I don't need to hear this!” Rick rubbed his eyes, then almost giggled. The hysteria was pressing in close now. “I can't believe I'm even asking this, but... How far along is the, ah... pregnancy?”

There were a hundred other questions Rick wanted, and probably at some point had to, ask, but this one just popped out.

“A bit hard to say, since the normal milestones are meaningless here...”

“Milestones?”

“Date of last period, possible conception dates, last time interc...”

“All right, all right! I'm sorry I asked. Best guess?”

“I’d say late second trimester.” At Rick’s blank look he added, “Six months, slightly less…”

Rick considered. There were still a million questions that needed answering but he suddenly realized something.

“Hershel, before you tell me any more we have to get Daryl into this conversation.” He looked at the old man. “It's... Christ, alright... It's his body, after all.”

*

“Daryl, can we talk for a sec?”

The hunter glanced up from the book he was reading, lying on the lower bunk in his cell. To Rick he looked like he had been crying again. Great, just what he needed, Daryl to be an emotional wreck already. As if this wouldn’t be a hard enough conversation…

Rick’s eyes travelled down and he noticed something else that had not registered before. And why should it, Rick thought, he didn’t make a habit of looking at other men’s bellies. But Daryl’s was definitely protruding, and lying on his back like this made it so obvious Rick was amazed nobody had noticed anything. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired.

“Sure. What’s up?”

When he looked at Daryl again the man had put his book aside and was in the process of getting up. Maybe it was just Rick’s imagination now, but he looked like he was having a harder time of that than before. Rick had to look away. This was too weird.

Hershel gave Rick a look of pity and understanding. He stepped around Rick into Daryl’s cell, patting Rick on the arm, then motioned at Daryl.

“Sit down, son.”

Daryl sat at the little table in his cell, looking confused. Hershel sat down opposite him and leaned forward. Rick was grateful the old man was taking charge. He couldn’t have done this without losing his composure completely.

“You know when you came to me today after you threw up outside, Daryl? After I’d checked you over I did one other test…”

Daryl looked suddenly scared, and Rick thought that that was probably down to the same hormonal shifts as the crying. Daryl never seemed to be scared of anything. Rick suddenly felt very sorry for the other man. Then he realized something else. He was actually starting to buy into Hershel’s theory. There was no better explanation for the symptoms he could see with his own eyes.

“Am I sick?”

Hershel quickly shook his head, and reached across the table to take Daryl’s hands, which were lying clenched together in front of him. To Rick’s surprise Daryl didn’t pull away.

“No, son, you aren’t sick. Not… exactly… There really is no easy way to say this, so here goes… Daryl, as incredible as it seems, you appear to be with child.”

Hershel stopped there, letting it sink in. Daryl’s face was a study of emotion, Rick thought. At first there was incredulity and confusion, and a trace of the same hilarity he still had difficulty suppressing. Then Daryl’s features changed and he suddenly looked suspicious, almost angry.

“Why you makin’ such a cruel joke?”

Daryl’s lower lip began to tremble, and there were tears in his eyes again. Rick stared. This was not the reaction he’d expected. On second thought, however, he realized he shouldn’t be surprised. Clearly Daryl was _not_ himself at the moment, so what he thought he knew about their hunter had to be off, too. He felt properly sorry for the other man now. Rick stepped closer to the table, and actually crouched down, to be able to look Daryl directly in the eyes without looming over him.

“Daryl, it’s not a joke. We got no explanation, but the symptoms you’ve been having? They all add up, and Hershel’s diagnosis is the only thing that makes sense.”

Daryl pulled his hands from Hershel’s grip at last and got up. “But Rick, this is insane!”

He started pacing which, with three of them in the cell, was nigh well impossible. Every two steps he turned around, paced two more, turned. He started worrying his thumb nail with his teeth, the other hand pressed into his back. Rick was powerfully reminded of Lori in her late pregnancy with both Carl and Judith. She’d done exactly the same. He rubbed his eyes again. Surely seeing his dead, pregnant wife in a redneck hunter meant he was finally going insane for real.

“It sounds crazy, I agree,” said Hershel from where he still sat. “I doubt we’ll ever get to the bottom of this completely. There is no precedent whatsoever in mammalian biological history that would explain it. I do, however, have a theory. Well, more of a hunch.”

Rick looked over at Hershel. “Share, please? Anything that might help explain this craziness surely is worth hearing.”

“Rick, you told us that scientist in Atlanta said the vector that caused the dead to walk has infected us all?” Rick nodded, and Hershel went on, “I am thinking that this is somehow related.”

Rick straightened up. “Hang on. Do you mean to say more men will get pregnant? If that’s,” he glanced at Daryl, “really is what’s happening here.”

Hershel shrugged.

“Maybe. But I don’t think that it’s spontaneous. The rest of us won’t suddenly wake up in the same condition. I think something happened, and I have a feeling I know what that something might be, too.” He looked at Daryl. “Remember the accident you had with Nervous Nellie, Daryl? When you fell down the bank and the crossbow bolt pierced your side?”

Daryl made a face. “Hard to forget. Still got the scars.”

“What if,” Hershel went on, “that bolt left behind more than scars? You reuse these bolts all the time, they are bound to be contaminated with walker DNA. What if a combination of that and the virus has caused something to grow inside you?”

Daryl looked at Hershel with horror, and this time Rick could understand the tears spilling over again.

“You mean I am carrying a walker in my belly?”

Daryl’s hands came to rest protectively on his middle, and Rick had to look away again. This was _precisely_ the thing Lori had always done.

“Not exactly.” Hershel’s voice was soothing now. “Walker tissue is dead, it can’t grow. There must have been a… reaction of some sort. Something must have set that process off. I don’t know, I have no idea how we’d ever find out. But it must be your own cells growing inside you, Daryl. As to what it is they are growing into, I can’t even guess.”

Hershel got up from the table.

“What we need now is more equipment. I need to do an ultrasound, get some lab stuff and run some more tests. And then,” he looked at Rick, “we need to decide what to tell the others.”


	2. Worries

It was evening, and their group was sitting down for dinner. Almost everyone was there, only Michonne was absent, keeping watch in the guard tower. Carol had supervised the cooking, which she liked to do, especially if any of the others were willing to do some of the grunt work.

“I’ll teach you some tricks that’ll make any meal delicious, even if it’s mostly made from cans,” she’d say. “Now go and dice the onion, there’s a good boy.”

Beth and Carl were often the only ones who would help Carol now, and that was only, Rick knew, because the adults could still force them to do it.

Daryl had been hanging around the cooking activity and Rick had watched with some amusement as the hunter had liberated the odd morsel here and there. Now, however, Daryl was only pushing his food around the plate, looking faintly green again. While Rick was still covertly observing him across the length of the table Daryl abruptly got to his feet, pushing back his chair. His fork clattered to the floor, and the sound reverberated around the prison block. Everyone’s eyes followed the hunter as he hurried past the group, up the stairs to the main entrance and out of sight.

“Wonder what’s gotten into him,” Maggie mused aloud. Rick happened that moment to look at Carol, and her brows knit together at the words. Rick thought he could see some dawning comprehension on her face. She turned her face towards him, but before she could say a word Rick had gotten up as well.

“Better check on Daryl,” he mumbled and quickly walked away from the others. They had yet to decide how to raise this weird subject with the others, and until they did Rick was keen to avoid any kind of discussion.

Rick stepped through the door and scanned the vicinity. He could see Daryl a way off near one of the inner fences. Still bent double Daryl was holding on to the chain links. Rick hung back a bit until the other man had recovered somewhat. This was embarrassing enough for Daryl as it was, he didn’t need people to hover over him. After all, Rick was no concerned wife. And he wasn’t too keen on watching other people puke, anyway.

When Daryl looked like the worst was over for the moment Rick approached. Daryl leaned against the fence, getting his breath back.

“You all right?” Rick called over from a bit of a distance. He told himself that was because he wanted to give the man his space, but in truth he didn’t trust the sickness to have passed. Not judging by the paleness of Daryl’s face.

The hunter nodded. He swallowed a few times, and Rick kept well back. Finally Daryl pushed himself away from the fence and straightened up.

“Isn’t is s’posed t’be morning sickness? ‘s almost getting dark now, and…” Daryl stopped mid-sentence, and with a groan turned round again, retching. Rick could hear the sick splatter on the concrete and retreated a ways again.

“D’you need anything, should I stay?”

Daryl motioned over his shoulder and finally managed to speak. “Jus’ go back inside, ‘m fine…”

Then the retching started up again, and Rick, knowing that Daryl wasn’t in fact fine and probably could do with his help, retreated towards the cell block. He told himself that the hunter would just have to get through this, there was no cure for morning sickness he was aware of, but he felt tremendously guilty for feeling so relieved to get away from the puking.

*

The next morning Daryl came to Rick's cell very early. Rick was still half asleep and at first what Daryl was saying didn't properly register.

“'m gonna go out, get that stuff Hershel need.”

“Hmmhmm...? Ok...” Rick rubbed his face and stretched. Then the meaning of the words penetrated and he sat up suddenly on his bunk. “No, actually, not ok. You can't go out there, not in your condition...”

“'m not sick, Rick! Hershel needs the stuff, t'make sure my... T'make sure this is real.” Daryl was looking at Rick from under his lashes, and Rick was again powerfully reminded of Lori. She'd look at him like that when she wanted him to do something difficult, like find strawberries in January to satisfy her cravings. “'sides, was hoping you'd come with...?”

*

So that was how Rick ended up crouched behind a dumpster at the back entrance of their nearest medical centre. They'd picked this place over thoroughly already, but of course had ignored anything that might be useful to monitor a pregnancy. There'd been no need to worry in that regard, or so Rick had thought. Now he realized how stupid that had been. Even without this freakish occurrence there was enough tension in the air for a lot of casual sex to be happening. Just because nobody had told _him_ about it didn't mean the others all weren't at it like rabbits.

Rick gave himself a mental shake. Now he was definitely getting paranoid. He looked over at Daryl who was crouching by his side. Even for him the hunter had been exceptionally quiet on their trip. Now he was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Rick nudged him lightly against his leg. Daryl's eyes snapped open.

“You ok? Feeling sick again?”

Daryl shook his head. “Jus' tired. Slept all day yesterday, an’ still could do with some more...”

He straightened up, and looked at Rick. Rick thought he was gathering up his courage to ask something difficult.

“Yer a dad…”

“Yes…” Rick prompted cautiously.

“I… I have no experience with babies. Feeding Lil Asskicker now and then’s all fine an’…an’ stuff, but…” Daryl looked at Rick, worry clear as day on his face. “Will y’help me? I mean, if this turns out t’be a real baby, can y’teach me how’t’be a dad?”

Rick suddenly felt a surge of affection for his friend. He was worried that Daryl would be disappointed, that this pregnancy turned out to be the disaster it should by all rights be. But all of a sudden he wanted it to be real, wanted Daryl to be a dad. Have a baby around to bring up together with Judith… Daryl would be great at this, he just knew. Rick smiled at the hunter and gave his leg a squeeze.

“Course I will. I’ll be Uncle Rick.”

Daryl’s eyes filled with tears. No longer exasperated, and still riding that wave of affection Rick leaned over and beckoned Daryl over. Usually not the hugging type Daryl let Rick enfold him in his arms. Daryl clung to Rick hard and Rick didn’t mind that the moment stretched. This man needed all the support he could get now, whatever happened. Rick tightened the embrace and buried his face against Daryl’s neck.

“I’ll always be there for you man, whatever happens.”

*

That evening found Hershel, Daryl and Rick hidden away again in Daryl's cell. Rick and Daryl had indeed found a portable ultrasound machine in the local hospital, and after charging the battery packs stealthily hidden behind some supply boxes all afternoon they were finally ready to investigate this mystery further. 

Rick felt nervous. They had brought back two bulging bags of other equipment, all carefully selected according to a list Hershel had drawn up before they left. Some of the instruments had made Rick shudder, and a couple of especially large syringes still dwelled on his mind now, making him feel ill. How were they ever going to get through this, he wondered. 

Now, however, he tried to focus on the two men in the cell with him, and the beeping machine between them. Hershel was bent over the monitor, muttering to himself as he moved a sensor back and forth across Daryl's exposed midriff. Rick was leaning against the wall by the head end of the bed, looking down at the monitor, trying to make something out. Nobody spoke for a long time, while the tension mounted. Finally, Daryl broke the silence with a curse.

“D’ya wanna wait till that thing rips a path out of m’guts after nine months or are y’gonna tell me what’s going on?”

Rick silently agreed with the sentiment. He could feel the nervousness in the other man, and hated being helpless in this situation. On an impulse he crouched down and placed a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “What can you tell us, Hershel? Is it a baby? Or something… else?”

Hershel still took his time. He looked at the monitor some more, frowning, then finally turned to face them both.

“It’s a baby, that’s for sure. It has a heartbeat, and it’s moving. In fact,” he scratched his head in puzzlement, “It looks pretty normal for a fetus or around twenty, twenty-one weeks.”

Rick could feel the tension ease in Daryl. He squeezed the hunter’s shoulder, and Daryl looked round at him. There was a smile on Daryl’s face, again reminding Rick eerily of Lori. Now that similarity no longer jarred, however. Rick smiled back, stroking Daryl’s shoulder absent-mindedly. But he still had questions.

“Where is this, uh… fetus, though? I mean, Daryl doesn’t exactly have a…y’know?”

Hershel nodded, looking thoughtful again. “That’s the odd thing. It looks like some kind of pouch, or sac, has formed around the baby.” He looked at Daryl. “I don’t know how that could be, but be grateful. Otherwise it’d get tangled in your intestines and your inner organs, and then we’d have no choice but to remove it.”

Rick could feel the tension mounting again in Daryl. “We’re not goin’ t’get rid of it!” Daryl’s voice was scared now, and Rick could hear the tears threatening in it again. Not again! No more crying on his watch. He leaned down and forced Daryl to look up.

“Don’t worry, all right? We’re not getting rid of it, ok?”

Daryl wouldn’t meet his eyes properly for a moment, but then he looked up, his gaze half desperate, half hopeful, and nodded.

“’kay…”

Rick straightened up again but left his hand on Daryl’s shoulder. He looked at Hershel, then unseeingly at the sheet covering the door. He sighed.

“Now we need to figure out what to tell the others…”


	3. Truths

“Come again?”

Carol’s voice broke the awkward silence like a gunshot. She looked from Daryl to Hershel, to Rick, and back to Daryl.

“If this is a joke, guys, it’s not funny…”

“What do you mean, _If_?” Maggie interjected. “Of course it’s a joke. Right, daddy?”

Hershel sighed. “I wish it was. I really…”

And then suddenly everyone was talking at once. Rick looked around the room, everyone gesticulating wildly, trying to shout the loudest, be heard by Hershel, have their questions answered. Glenn was shaking his head, Maggie had her arms crossed. They were taking it as badly as he had expected. As badly as he had himself.

Then Rick looked at Daryl, who was the only one being entirely silent. Eyes downcast, bottom lip trembling he looked ready to burst into tears again. No, Rick decided, he couldn’t deal with that. Not on top of everything else!

“Silence!”

Rick’s shout reverberated around the cell block, magnified by steel and concrete. As the sound faded away a total silence descended. That was better!

“Thank you. Now, one thing at a time…”

It was Carol who recovered her bravado first. “So you’re saying we have a pregnant man here. How’s that even possible, Rick?”

“We don't know how, is the truth. It really shouldn't be possible. Hershel has a theory, at least to the how it happened. It has to do with the virus, the one that landed us all in this mess. Remember when Daryl had that accident with the horse? We think that the crossbow bolt carried some walker DNA into his, um... His belly. And somehow that combined with his own...”

“So it's a walker?” Trust Carol to pick up the scariest scenario first.

“No!” Hershel straightened up.” It has a heartbeat...”

“He.”

Everyone looked round at Daryl who seemed finally ready to join the discussion about his condition.

“Sorry?” Carol again.

“Don' call him it. It's a he.”

“How do you know?”

Rick would have dearly liked to know that too. But Daryl just shrugged. “Dunno. Jus’ know...”

Lori flashback again, accompanied with a strong surge of protective instinct. Rick would have loved to reach out and rub Daryl's back, where it had tensed up defensively. Great, more confusion. What did these emotions mean that he was suddenly experiencing every time he looked at Daryl?

“But...”

“Carol, not now.” Rick rubbed his eyes. “Let's take this one problem at a time...”

“Ok then. Tell me this.” Glenn this time. “What are we gonna do about it?”

“Do about it?” This time Rick did reach out a hand and placed it placatory on Daryl's back as the hunter half rose to his feet.

“Daryl, stay calm. Remember, they have just heard about this. It's hard to stomach.” Rick kept his voice low, and his hand on Daryl. After a moment of glaring first at Glenn then Rick Daryl dropped his gaze and nodded. He didn't shrug off Rick's hand.

Rick looked straight at Glenn. “According to Hershel's scan the... Jeez, the pregnancy is progressing normally. The, um, fetus seems healthy. And has a heartbeat.”

He looked at the old man. “You think Daryl will be able to carry this baby to term? And that it can be born, ah...”

“By caesarian section, yes.” Hershel's gaze was almost amused, presumably, Rick thought, at his own discomfort.

Glenn looked at Rick oddly, and Rick realized he still had his hand on Daryl's back, was in fact stroking the other man gently. He dropped his hand quickly. Rick thought he saw disappointment cross Daryl's face but avoided looking at him directly.

“So what now, then?”

“Now,” Hershel supplied, “We make sure Daryl gets enough food, and plenty of rest. And we wait.”

*

It was a strange time after that. The others treated Daryl with a curious mix of compassion and wariness. Carol was the most practical about it. Once satisfied that whatever was growing in Daryl's belly posed no imminent threat she had offered to help Hershel with the antenatal care.

“The word makes me want to break out in hysterical laughter,” Rick overheard her saying, and knew exactly how Carol felt. “But at least I know a little already from when you taught me before. And also, no disrespect, but with only men involved in bringing this child, if that's indeed what it is, into this world something is bound to go wrong.”

Rick privately agreed with her there, too.

The truth was, he was ridiculously out of his depth here, and yet had a strange desire to be around Daryl and help him as much as he could. And that was proving increasingly difficult.

Rick couldn’t decide what was worst, the mood swings or the morning sickness. Scrap morning. Constant sickness, it seemed. Rick never knew how he'd find Daryl. Buoyant and eating everything in sight, regardless the time of day or night, or miserable and pale, suddenly running for the bathroom or nearest shrubbery. The odd thing was, Daryl's misery really bothered Rick, and he started doing everything he could to make Daryl feel better.

Daryl also started behaving extremely erratically. They were all used to him being moody, but nobody was prepared for the crying fits and temper tantrums. Rick knew the hunter couldn't really help it, but being at the mercy of Daryl's rampant hormones was getting tired rather quickly. It had its compensations, though. Suddenly craving human contact where before Daryl had usually jumped a mile if someone even accidentally touched him Rick found himself at the receiving end of long hugs and casual caresses even more than the others. Rick decided he rather liked it. There were worse ways of ending a day than sitting on a bench in the common area with Daryl resting his head in his lap and falling asleep. The others had given Rick odd looks when once or twice he had absently started stroking Daryl's hair in that situation. He didn't really mind, and the hunter's hair, surprisingly soft, felt nice under his hands. The ritual soon became almost nightly, and it was soothing to Rick's nerves.

*

“Please, Rick, let me go out. Please, just for an hour. I need to get out, it's driving me mad!”

It was now, by Hershel's best approximation, 38 weeks into Daryl's pregnancy. His belly was huge, and he'd been ungainly and slow for several weeks. He was also being increasingly clumsy, and Rick had decided that it was no longer safe for him outside the fence. There had been a hairy incident where Daryl, tired from a foray, had sat down to rest just a couple hundred yards away from the gate, and promptly fallen asleep. Rick had gone out looking for him when dusk had started to fall and had found him just in time to dispatch the two walkers that were advancing on their hunter to take a bite.

“Please, Rick? Come with me. You can ride the bike, I'll ride pillion. Won't have much time at all soon, lemme be out on the bike just once more, for an hour...”

Somehow, Rick had had an increasingly hard time refusing Daryl anything lately. He looked into pleading blue eyes, and was once again reminded forcefully of Lori as she'd been pregnant with Carl. Why was it that he couldn't resist pregnant wom... Shit, pregnant people's every whim? Must be a hormonal thing, Rick supposed. He sighed.

“All right, meet me out front in ten minutes.”

Daryl beamed. “Thank you. I'll get my crossbow.”

As he walked away Rick thought Daryl was almost skipping. Surely, the world had gone mad all around him.

*

They drove out on Daryl's motorcycle. Rick, always practical, decided to combine this unplanned outing with a foray into the closest town. He reckoned that, with their people having traveled that way recently and finding the area deserted, there wasn't too much of a risk of running into large numbers of walkers.

Rick was glad Daryl has suggested the chopper, too. The hunter was now really too slow on his feet to roam the woods, and while they certainly must have presented an amusing sight to any onlookers, Daryl and his belly slightly awkwardly perched behind Rick who was not the most at ease in the saddle, it wasn't too uncomfortable a way to travel. Truth was, Rick rather enjoyed the feel of the wind on his face as he steered the motorcycle down the winding country road.

They got to the little town without incident and parked the bike on the deserted main street. When Rick glanced at Daryl once the man had awkwardly clambered off the seat behind him he thought he saw a split second's discomfort cross his face. It was gone quickly, though, and Rick decided not to say anything. This outing had been Daryl's idea after all, and Rick was still a little exasperated. If the hunter suffered a little now all the better. Maybe he'd be less of a pain in the ass in future and stayed put when told to.

They approached one of the stores cautiously, Rick with his Python drawn and Daryl with the crossbow cocked. Everything seemed quiet, but that didn't mean things wouldn't turn sour quickly. Rick pulled ahead of Daryl and climbed the two steps up to the store entrance. He was keen to check the coast was clear himself. Rick was about to push the door open with one hand when there came a groan from behind him. He spun round.

“Daryl, what is it?”

The hunter had lowered his weapon, one hand pressed into his side. The crossbow clattered to the ground as Daryl groped for the bannister by the store's staircase. He groaned again, breathing shallow and rapid.

“'s my belly. 't hurts...” Daryl groaned again, his knees sagging. He breathed through the pain, then looked at Rick. “'s not time yet, 'm not ready... Rick what's going on?”

It seemed to Rick that, like in every normal pregnancy, this baby operated to its own schedule, whether they were ready or not. As Rick looked on, momentarily paralyzed with shock, Daryl doubled over again and this time his knees gave way and he sank onto the top step, moaning softly.

“We gotta get back.”

Rick was moving before his brain had quite caught up with the situation.

“Just... hmm... lemme... phhh... sit here... ahhh... for a... huuuh... moment...”

Rick knelt down in front of Daryl and looked at him. The hunter's eyes were closed. Rick took Daryl's hands in his, and the other man looked at him with a gaze slightly out of focus.

“Daryl, this baby wants out. And you, uh... need Hershel for that!”

Daryl looked suddenly scared. “It really hurts Rick. Why does it hurt so much? Is that normal?”

Rick couldn't exactly recall in how much pain Lori had been at the birth. He hoped that this amount of pain was normal. Putting on a brave face he nodded.

“Yes, entirely normal. C’mon.”

He stood up, not letting go of Daryl's hands. “You gotta get up, man. I'll help you, but you need to want to move, too.”

Somehow they got Daryl back onto his feet. Rick supported him over to the motorcycle, stopping briefly to pick up the crossbow. For a while it seemed impossible for Daryl to climb onto the bike and Rick held him up as he breathed through another couple of contractions. Finally, with a lot of muttered curses and awkwardness, they both made it onto the bike.

The drive back to the prison was uncomfortable, to say the least. Rick thought at one point Daryl had broken one of his ribs for sure, he was holding on so hard. When they got back Carol opened the gate for them. She hurried after them and was there in time to help Rick catch Daryl as he half toppled off the bike.

“What happened? Daryl, are you hurt.”

“'s the baby. 's not ready yet. Carol, 's not time. We gotta stop it...”

“There is no stopping this, Daryl.” She held him as another contraction hit. “This baby is coming now. Let's get you inside...”

“I can' do this, Carol. How d’women stand the pain?! Kill me?”

Rick had never heard Daryl so desperate.

“Well we're a tough lot, we girls. You can do it, I promise. It'll be over soon.” Carol threw Rick a worried look as they helped Daryl inside. “I hope you know what you're doing.”

Rick very much hoped that Hershel did, because he had no clue himself.

While Carol hurried ahead Rick stood, supporting Daryl who stopped suddenly, breathing through another contraction. He clutched at Rick hard, and Rick could feel the hunter shaking in his arms. Daryl was getting weaker, they had to get this over with as quickly as possible.

It seemed to take forever to get Daryl into his cell. They had moved all his things into a cell on the ground floor a couple of months ago when climbing the stairs every time he had to get up to pee at night had become too tiring. In particular, since Daryl seemed to pee about twenty times a night as the baby grew and pressed onto everything inside, including his bladder.

There had been no end of bitching from Daryl about this, and from anyone who had been out on runs with the hunter, because of course the peeing wasn’t restricted to night times, and they’d started scheduling in an inordinate amount of bathroom stops for each trip. In fact, Rick was suspicious of his own motives as to why he’d stopped Daryl leaving the prison. He suspected the constant complaints from the others had had something to do with it as well.

Rick and Glenn had also modified the bunk in Daryl’s cell in the same way as Glenn had done for his and Maggie’s bed. Using welding equipment they had separated the top bunk and created a double bed which would allow Daryl to be more comfortable while he recovered after the birth.

What nobody knew was that on occasion Rick had taken advantage of the extra bed space and spent the night in Daryl’s cell. When hearing Daryl crying one night while passing his cell Rick had gone in to check on the other man, and somehow he’d ended up holding Daryl until he went to sleep. It seemed silly to go back to his own bed since there was plenty of space. Somehow, sleeping together had become a habit after that. Rick always left before anyone else was up, but since their closeness seemed to help Daryl cope Rick saw no reason not to be there for his friend.

Now, though, it was just Daryl they had to get onto the bed. Rick was still holding him up and was just wiping away the sweat from his own brow as Hershel arrived. Carol followed with Hershel’s kit and a plastic sheet. She squeezed past the men and spread the sheet over the bed. The implications of this precaution made Rick feel slightly sick.

“Let’s do this!” Hershel was all business. “Rick, help Daryl take his pants off, then get him onto the bed.”

Rick did as he was told. He had tried not to think about this part of the process over the last few months and was glad that someone else was taking charge. Daryl was breathing hard again, and was not being a great help in anything. Halfway through undressing another contraction hit and he would have crumpled to the floor had Rick not held him up. That was when Carol came to their aid and finally Daryl was on the bed, looking up at Rick with eyes full of fear and pain. Rick’s heart went out to his friend and he took Daryl’s hand. Daryl held on hard.

“Y’gonna stay?”

Rick surprised himself by nodding without hesitation. Hershel looked from him to Daryl.

“All right, then. Rick, sit.” Hershel pushed a stool to the top end of the bed. “Just stay out of the way, ok? There’s hardly enough room in here as it is.”

Again, Rick did as he was told. Hershel turned to Daryl. “Lie on your side, facing the wall. I’ll give you the epidural.”

Hershel had stated early on the obvious fact they were all aware of: A cesarean section was the only way to get the baby out. There had been weeks of discussion on how to keep the pain bearable for Daryl during the procedure. All the teams going out on runs had been told to search for drugs that would either put him under (plus oxygen and all the equipment they’d need for a full anesthetic) or numb him from the chest down. Finally Glenn and Maggie had been in luck: They found a small stash of bupivacaine and fentanyl, so an epidural it was going to be.

Daryl rolled over and Rick quickly looked away as Hershel inserted the biggest needed Rick had ever seen into the other man’s back. Daryl hissed once, but was otherwise silent.

“Ok, all done,” Hershel said after a few minutes. “We’ll wait 15 minutes now for this to start working.”

Hershel then went on to insert another needle into the back of Daryl’s hand and attached it to an IV drip. This time Rick watched. He was starting to feel oddly detached, as if Hershel had numbed him, too. Then the next contraction hit and Daryl curled up on the bed, groaning. Rick gripped his shoulder, trying to comfort his friend but feeling more and more helpless.

“Don’t push, Daryl, even if you feel you have to.” Hershel’s voice was starting to betray the strain they all felt. “There is nowhere for the baby to move to, and if you push too much you could do you both damage.”

Hershel took his stethoscope out of the kit bag and listened to Daryl’s belly, then to his chest, for a long time. He looked worried now. Rick caught the old man’s eye and Hershel gave him a grave look. He shook his head very slightly, which Rick understood to mean that something wasn’t right, but that they weren’t to alarm Daryl. Rick looked down at their hunter, trying to remember what he’d done for Lori at this point during her labor with Carl, but drawing a blank. His hand came up almost automatically and he smoothed away a few strands of hair from the other man’s forehead. Daryl felt worryingly warm under his fingers.

Daryl’s eyes half closed and he leaned into the touch. As his sleepy, unfocused gaze met Rick’s eyes Rick smiled at him encouragingly, squeezing Daryl’s shoulder again. His heart was filled with dread, but he was determined to help Daryl stay calm.

“Not long now, man. It’ll all be over soon.”

Daryl nodded sleepily as Hershel moved into position with what looked like a knife to Rick. He quickly focused back on Daryl. He had to remember not to look down or he’d lose the battle with his nerves.

“Daryl, I’ll get started now. You focus on Rick, but don’t go to sleep, ok?”

“M’kay…”

Daryl’s voice was no more than a whisper. His gaze never left Rick’s, and Rick was grateful for the connection. He focused on Daryl’s eyes, noting not for the first time how brilliantly blue they were. It was unusual for their hunter to be so still for so long, or to look at anyone with such intensity. For a moment nothing seemed to exist in the world except Daryl. There was something indescribable in Daryl’s gaze, and Rick almost knew what it was. But then the other man frowned.

“Rick, you ok?”

Rick gave himself a mental shake. “Course. Just a bit nervous, you know. You feel ok? Any pain?”

“M’fine…”

Daryl sounded more sleepy than ever now, his eyes were starting to fall shut further. Rick was about to say something when suddenly Daryl’s eyes widened again and he gave a shudder. The atmosphere inside the cell changed. Rick knew he had to look at what Hershel and Carol were doing, even if he didn’t want to. He closed his eyes for a second, steeling himself for the sight of blood, and worse, a baby that wasn’t really a baby at all. Then he heard the tiniest mewling sound. He looked round and saw Hershel holding a small, wet-looking bundle. Hershel caught his eyes and smiled, then looked at Daryl.

“It’s a boy, and he’s perfect.” He handed the baby to Carol. “Let me just finish up while Carol cleans him. I want to make sure to get all the tissue and…”

“Okay, good, do what you have to do. Just don’t talk about it!” Rick was feeling the panic rise again. Hershel gazed at him, and Rick thought he looked amused.

“Just stay focused on Daryl, then. Keep him calm until I’m done here.”

Rick looked down again at Daryl who had started to move his hands restlessly. Rick took them in both of his own, his thumbs absent-mindedly stroking Daryl’s wrists. The hunter started to calm down at once. Rick looked up.

“Hershel, did you drug him?”

The old man looked almost guilty. “Just a mild sedative, to keep him calm. I didn’t want him to get too stressed, so he wouldn’t bleed too much. He’s coming out of it already, just keep him quiet for a few more minutes while I finish the sutures…”

“Rick…”

About to protest again at Hershel’s oversharing Rick was distracted by Daryl who was trying to pull away from his grasp. Rick let go of one of his hands and placed gentle fingers against Daryl’s face instead.

“Hey, man, it’s ok. We’re almost done here…”

Daryl’s eyes were still glazed over as he tried to focus on Rick. “The baby… he alright?”

“He’s fine, Daryl. Just perfect. Carol is washing him now, you can see him in a moment.”

“’kay… Rick…?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you…”

“Don’t mention it.”

“But you did… help, I mean… even though it’s so weird… I… I was thinking…”

Daryl turned his head away, going faintly pink. Rick gently took his chin and turned his face back towards himself. “What, Daryl? You can tell me. After all this…”

“I… would you mind if we called him Rick?”

Daryl looked uncertain, almost as if he expected to be told off. The emotions Rick felt were indescribable now, even to himself. He squeezed Daryl’s hand again.

“Would I mind? Daryl, I would be honored.”


	4. Epilogue

Evening. The baby was wrapped up and asleep in Daryl’s arms. Rick looked down at them both. He was stretched out next to Daryl, holding him gently, feeling at peace. Finally, after a barrage of visitors, they were alone. Rick could tell Daryl was almost asleep himself. In a moment he’d take the baby from him and tuck him into Judith’s old crib, and then they could all catch some much needed rest. Rick was only holding out because it felt so nice to be comfortable after this crazy day, and he felt reluctant to disturb Daryl.

Rick smiled. The hunter kept touching little Ricky’s face, his hands and tiny feet every few minutes, as if to make sure he was still real. Now, close to sleep, he was whispering very quietly to the baby, so quietly Rick couldn’t make out any words.

The others all had been to see the baby earlier, and had cooed over him as expected. Rick could see why. Apart from being a veritable miracle the little guy was amazingly cute. Rick thought he looked exactly like Daryl must have as a baby, and the realization of this being the complete truth hardly even freaked him out any longer.

Hershel had pronounced the boy healthy and strong, and Daryl in good condition, all things considered. Rick marveled at how normal it all seemed. The birth, while stressful for all concerned, had gone smoothly enough. The baby was normal. How could this be? They would most likely never fully understand it. But for now, the fact that they’d come through it more or less in one piece, and that Daryl would be ok, seemed enough.

Daryl glanced up at Rick and gave a painkiller-fueled half-smile. He leaned his head against Rick’s chest and sighed. Rick tightened his arm around Daryl’s shoulders.

“You ok?”

“Hmm…yeah… Feels strange, but right, too, don’t it? You feel it, Rick?”

Rick thought for a moment, absently stroking Daryl’s neck and hair. What were they doing here, he and Daryl? Apart from all the strangeness, what did his feelings of tenderness and the urge to protect Daryl at all cost mean? Did he just want to protect the baby, and their group? Was it just friendship? Or more? Rick guessed only time would tell. He leaned down and placed a kiss on Ricky’s head.

“I can feel it, yeah…”

There was a rustle at the curtain over the cell’s entrance and Tyreese’s embarrassed face appeared a second later.

“Real sorry to disturb you, Rick, but… well, there’s two, ah, visitors here and they, well… they wanted to see you…” He looked at Daryl. “And the baby,” he added.

Rick frowned. “Who are they?”

“Not sure yet. But they sound foreign…”

“How do they know about the baby?”

“It, ah, came up…?”

Tyreese’s face vanished and two men stepped through the curtain and stood just inside the cell. Rick looked at them both, then did a double take. One of the men looked oddly familiar. He glanced down at Daryl, then back at the strangers.

“Who are you?”

The man with the familiar face stepped forward.

“Name’s Murphy. Murphy MacManus. And this is me brother Connor.”

 

TBC?


End file.
